


Fly Me to the Moon

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Big Brother Len, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hidden Talents, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Love, Singing, but not like that you heathens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5918725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love this game, and I'm very good at it."</p><p>The Rogues are gradually introduced to something else Len is good at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Me to the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nordstrom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nordstrom/gifts).



> This was supposed to be short fluff, then I took over four flipping hours to write it. Started from the top, now we're here.
> 
> In honor of Wentworth Miller being able to carry a tune. And if you got the title reference, well done.

**1\. Lisa Snart**

Lisa's seven years old when her father comes after her. Trying to teach her a lesson he learned in prison, is what he says. Alcohol stains his breath just as bruises now stain Lisa's skin, not yet calloused or scarred.

Lenny gets home as fast as he can after his job, the one Lewis made him get. As soon as he sees what's going on, he shoves himself in front of his baby sister and punched their dad in the face.

"You stay away from her!" he snarls.

There's a feral blaze in his eyes, something Lisa has never seen. Yet it doesn't frighten her, because this is her big brother Lenny; he's the one person in the world that she knows without a doubt she's safe with.

Lewis targets Lenny instead. Lisa tries to scream, but that makes her dad snap back to her, and she's too much of a coward to try again.

After it's done, Lenny wipes the blood from his lip and tests his black eye. It's slightly swollen, but he can blink okay. Next, he crouches in Lisa's corner and gives her a smile.

"It's alright now, sis," he murmurs, offering his hand, "I've got you."

Lisa sniffles. She doesn't take his hand; she throws herself in his arms. Lenny readily catches her, lifts her up, and carries her upstairs.

"Let's get you cleaned up, huh?" he whispers, "Get a bath running, with all the bubbles you want. How's that sound?"

Lisa hiccups into his shoulder, "B-but wha-what about y-you?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Lise." they reach the top of the stairs. Lenny takes her to their shared bathroom. "I'm just fine."

"N-n-no you're n-not!" sobs Lisa, clutching his jacket in her tiny fists. "Ah-I wasn't s-strong enough, a-and---"

"Shh, you were very strong, and so, so brave," Lenny tells her, gently placing her on the toilet seat so he can kneel down and take her hands. He's still smiling; back then, he always smiled for her. "I'm proud of you, Lisa. You and me, we'll get through this. And I'll always be there to protect you, okay?"

Even at seven years old, Lisa knew he wouldn't be able to keep that "always." But the thought of someone, of Lenny, still caring about her sends her into a fresh bout of tears.

Lenny wipes some away with his thumb. "Shh, you're okay. You're safe now. I'll get that bath going, yeah? You wanna keep holding my hand?" Lisa gives a tearful nod. "Okay. Come on."

It's not a big bathroom, but the tub/shower's far enough away that Lenny has to take a couple steps to reach it. Lisa pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the tremble in her tiny legs in favor of squeezing her big brother's hand.

Lenny fills the tub, adding bubbles. A little part of Lisa brightens when the smell of lavender fills her nose, reminding her of her mother.

Once that's done, Lenny kneels again and helps her undress, minding her bruises. Sadness and anger flash in his eyes, but he quickly covers it with another smile and a kiss to her forehead.

He gets her to laugh by swinging her around before settling her in the tub. Yet, almost the second she surrounds herself with bubbles, she's reminded of why she gets this special treat, and her tears return.

Lenny runs his fingers through her hair. "Hey, hey," he murmurs, "I'm here, Lisa. We're okay now."

When Lisa continues to sob, he looks away, thoughtful. Once more he smiles, just a few seconds later.

"How about we sing a song?" he suggests. "You love that one from  _Sleeping Beauty_ , right?"

Lisa's whimpers fade when she thinks about it. She does love that song, used to fantasize about dreaming of her true love. But she doesn't wanna sing; she can't, not when...

She knows it's selfish after all Lenny's done for her. Her excuse is that maybe he'll smile for real if he sings the song. How could he not? It's the best song in the whole world.

"W-will you s-sing for me, Lenny?" Lisa croaks. She's never heard her brother sing, but in those days, she thought he could do anything.

Lenny wipes more of her tears away. "Sure, sis. Come here."

Her hands are soaked by now. He lets her take fistfuls of his jacket anyway, tucking her under his chin.

Gently swaying them both, Lenny starts to sing: " _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..."_

Lenny's voice croons to Lisa, filling the room. He must've sang that song at least ten times. Worth it for Lisa's tiny smile.

And now, so many years later, when Lenny's much older and she's not so young herself, Golden Glider sweeps into Captain Cold's room.

Lenny has no more smiles to give, only fascimles disguised as devious smirks. He greets with his customary, "Hey, sis."

This demeanor drops as soon as he gets a good look at Lisa: fists clenched at her sides, lips pursed so they don't tremble, and eyes glassy with unshed tears. In a flurry of movement he's off his bed, grabbing his glasses on his way.

"What is it?" he says, stern and urgent.

Lisa inhales a quiet breath, hating the way it trembles. "Do you remember the first time Dad came after me? You...sang me a song."

Lenny's eyes narrow slightly. "Yes. I must've sung it a hundred before you calmed down."

Lisa knows he knows the exact number of times he sang. Lenny remembers stuff like that.

"Yeah..." she smiles briefly, ducking her head. "I was wondering..." braces herself, looks up at her brother through her eyelashes, "if I could have an encore?"

Lenny's eyes search hers. She refuses to give anything away. He doesn't have to know about the guy with alcohol staining his breath trying to force his way into her. He's worried enough for two lifetimes.

He's definitely concerned anyway. Drops the questions, but Lisa can tell he's going to put out feelers tomorrow, and someone is gonna get iced. Because even after so long, there's still someone who cares about her.

Lenny guides her to his bed, lies down beside her. Lisa tucks herself under his chin, just like she used to.

"Come on, big brother," she whispers, "sing me a song."

He could never say no to her. Gently rubbing little circles on her back, Lenny opens his mouth and sings, softer than before but just as wonderfully.

_"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..."_

**2\. Hartley Rathaway**

Cold finds Hartley after he's escaped. There's no trigger happy Heat Wave or teasing Golden Glider with him, just himself, his ridiculous parka, and his cold gun.

How Cold managed to find him is intriguing all on its own. Hartley knows how to cover his tracks and cover them well. He's not a genius for nothing.

"Nice place you go here, Piper," the criminal says by way of greeting, looking about the disgusting hole Hartley's been forced to hide in until further notice.

Hartley replies, "Do you say that to all the guys?"

To his surprise, Cold smirks. "Well, usually I'm halfway to their bed and feeling...generous. But that's not why I'm here."

"What a shame. I'd love to fuck a silver fox like yourself."

Cold prowls farther into the room. "Flattery will get you far, but not far enough."

Hartley scoffs. "Cut the act, Cold. You're here to recruit me to your little gang."

To his credit, Cold doesn't falter. That's why I like you, Piper. You don't waste your time trying to please others anymore."

Hartley sneers, "Anymore implies that I tried to please people before."

"I can think of three examples. Each and every one ending in failure."

Hartley berates himself for allowing a betraying twitch in his fingers. Cold sees it, he knows he does. He's hit the nerve he's looking for, and now he knows how to strike.

But that's not what happens.

Instead of mocking Hartley, taking advantage of his disownment, of what Wells did to him, Cold runs a finger across the motel's garish wallpaper and says, "The day I came out to my dad ended in a similar reaction. Although he was a little more...passionate about his beliefs."

Hartley can read between the lines. Hacked into police records. Cold was beaten for speaking his truth. He hides the abuse well, Hartley will give him that.

"Are you trying to get sympathy from me?"

Cold spares him an unimpressed glance. "And here I thought you were a genius. Didn't expect you to ask stupid questions."

Hartley seethes. "You need to work on your pitches,  _Captain_."

Cold's smirk returns with a vengeance. "I'll be straight with you, Piper." Hartley scoffs. The smirk widens. "You join my Rogues, you can crush Cisco Ramon without worrying about the legal consequences, and get my protection."

Hartley scowls. "I don't need your protection," he spits, "and I certainly don't---"

"Yes you do." Cold's tone is completely certain. "You're book smart, Piper, not street smart. Look around you: no one cares whether you live or die. In fact, I'm sure those people at STAR Labs would rejoice of your body was found in a morgue. What you need isn't more weapons, and I'm sure you can hack into any bank account you want as soon as you can get your hands on a keyboard. No, what you need is someone who gives a shit."

Hartley lashes out: "And what? Are you telling me that person is you? You just want me so you can have better tech and more money. I'm not going to waste my time on your little club, Cold."

But this criminal is stubborn. Bracing his hands on the table separating them, Cold leans forward until he's inches from Hartley's face.

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention," he orders.

Hartley crosses his arms; he can't wait to hear this.

Yet what Cold tells him is this: "My Rogues are not supposed to be your run-of-the-mill crew. This isn't a temporary thing, and certainly not a pet project. Yes, I want more money, and yes, you can give me better tech. But I'm not here just because of your usefulness to me. I am here because you matter. I don't know you yet, but I care whether you live or die. Understand? I care. My Rogues are meant to be a family, Piper. We take care of each other. I want to give you that. Now are you coming with me or not?"

Funny thing is, he wasn't lying. Hartley can tell when someone's spouting bullshit, and this isn't it.

So he says, "I am not riding your ridiculous bike."

Cold barks a laugh. "Don't worry, Piper. I brought a car."

"Stolen?"

"Is there any other kind?"

Five months have passed since then. Hartley hasn't regretted his decision. Cold had actually been right: different as they are, the Rogues are a family. Cold stands a little outside their circle, but he protects them just like they protect each other.

Five months have passed, and Hartley's still not used to it.

Today, he's planning to work on his latest invention, one that will enhance his gloves' sonic waves in a way that will accerlate their effects. As he walks to his work room, however, he hears a lilting voice from the meeting room.

" _Tu aimerais faire, ta fête...ta mère veut te la faire aussi, ta fête..."_

The accent is impeccable, almost as good as Hartley's. Curious, he sneaks to the open doorway.

None other than Cold himself stands there, singing French as he makes notes on his latest plans. Sometimes he dissolves into hums, sometimes the lyrics come out. Either way, he's actually pretty good.

For once, Hartley keeps his mouth shut and listens. It seems Cold has a few more surprised up his sleeve.

When he finally leaves, Len realizes he still has a smile left to give.

**3\. Shawna Baez**

She never liked stealing, Shawna. When her no good ex abandoned her to the Flash's torture, where she couldn't see anything but her own reflection for weeks at a time, this resolve only got stronger.

But Cold didn't ask her to steal. In fact, he told her she didn't have to be involved in any of his jobs.

"You had a stint in medical school," he says, "and you were an exceptional student until you dropped out. I wanna send you back. And in the meantime, you can take care of my Rogues when a few stitches and alcohol aren't enough. You'll be a Rogue without having to be a rogue."

And that's exactly what he did. Shawna's criminal record was not only erased, but she could go to any medical school she wanted. She was so happy, she jumped into Cold's arms and squeezed with all her might.

Cold stiffened. Embarrassed, Shawna made to pull back---until he wrapped his arms around her. It was obvious in how cautiously he returned her embrace that he wasn't used to this kind of thing, but was willing to try.

So, halfway through her semester, Shawna texts Cold and invites him to lunch.

He arrived in jeans and a blue t-shirt. With the addition of a pair of glasses, he isn't spared a second glance. It helps that, despite his affected confidence, he has an inherent awkwardness as he looks around for Shawna, clearly feeling out of place. It's...kind of endearing.

She waves him over with a smile. He nods to her, taking a seat. Shawna picked a booth towards the back, which sets him a little more at ease.

"Lookin' good," she tells him. Pointing to the glasses, "Are those real?"

"That's none of your business, Peek."

Shawna rolls her eyes, "I do have first name, Leonard."

Cold's nose twitches. Holy shit, does he wrinkle his nose? Somehow, this thought fills Shawna with childish glee.

"If you want me to call you Shawna, you will never call me Leonard again."

She grins, "Then what  _do_ I call you? I'm not going with your title in a place like this."

Cold looks over the menu. "Len's fine."

Len. Sounds so...there's a sense of familiarity that comes with it. Like they're friends.

Shawna takes up her own menu to hide her wide smile. "Len it is."

Len charms their waitress almost immediately. Shawna can't believe how easy he makes it look, especially when he hardly even smiles at her. Shawna can't help but laugh when the unsuspecting woman goes on her merry way.

And there---hardly noticeable, but  _there_ , is a smile. Tiny as it is, it lights Len's face, and Shawna feels a strange sense of being privileged to witness it.

Shortly after their food arrives, one of her favorite songs starts playing over their heads.

Shawna gasps, "I love this song!" Len hums into his burger. "You like it too?"

He swallows before answering, "I don't know anyone who doesn't like Thriller."

Shawna laughs. She never thought she'd be this comfortable around a criminal, let alone someone like Captain Cold. She likes it.

They eat in silence for a minute. A few bites into through her turkey club though, Shawna hears something. At first she doesn't know what it is. Then it clicks: someone nearby is humming along to the song.

Casual interest has Shawna trying to pinpoint the sound. Imagine her surprise when she realizes it's Len.

Without thinking, she blurts, "I didn't know you could sing!"

She shouldn't be all that surprised that she doesn't know Len has hidden talents, but still. Cold can sing. At least, his humming sounds like it's perfect pitch.

Len blinks. That's about as surprised as he can get. "Technically, everyone can sing."

Shawna snorts, "I mean sing well."

Len raises an eyebrow. "How are your classes?"

She lets it go. Nevertheless, after that, she pays more attention to Len, hoping to catch another bar or two.

**4\. Mark Mardon**

Mardon doesn't have much of a story to tell, at least not one he'd like to share.

What's known is this: anniversary of Clyde's death arrives. First one, so it's harder than most. Mardon clouds the sky, doesn't come out of his room. Childish, but what he needs.

Shawna, Roy, Lisa, even Hartley knock on his door throughout the day. Mick pesters him too.

Cold just barges in.

Mardon doesn't say what happens after that. However, if you'd pressed your ear to the door and listened closely that day, you would've heard muffled sobs and a quiet rendition of Clyde's favorite song.

**5\. Roy Bivolo**

While pissing people off is fun, but Roy doesn't always do it on purpose. Controlling his powers becomes even more difficult when he learns new colors: blue sadness, pink love, green jealousy, and purple fear.

He needs an anchor, and he needs one soon.

Miraculously, one comes to him. It's a bad day; he can't even go outside for fear of setting someone off, something he really doesn't want to do today. He paces up and down the hall, trying to control the chaos of his powers.

Then he hears it. A shower running, and a voice crooning,  _"If I had eyes in the back of my head, I would have told you that you looked good as you walked away..."_

Like a baby in its cradle, Roy's powers are lulled to sleep.

Music. He just needs music.

"Thank you," he breathes. Len, of course, doesn't hear.

**6\. Mick Rory**

Kind of embarrassing that Mick's the last to find out, considering that, besides Lisa, he's the one who's known Len the longest. Shit, he even married the man.

Nevertheless, he finds out in the same manner Bivolo did. Lenny was taking a shower, and he sang a song in a different language, French by the sound of it.

Right then and there, Mick wants Len to sing for him, especially when he finds out the rest of their Rogues experienced it. And he knows exactly how he's going to do it.

That very night, he undresses Len and fucks him hard into their mattress. Len's breath teases hot in his ear, making little noises. He moans Mick's name a few times, choked and quiet, but still so very pretty.

As always, Len grunts, "Close," so Mick can push himself up on his elbow and hold his chin.

"Show me," he growls, picking up the pace. Len's eyes roll this way and that. Fuck, he takes Mick so well. "Yeah, Lenny. Come on, come for me."

And Len does, clawing at Mick's back and  _whimpering_ , "Mick, oh fuck,  _yes."_

More than enough to send Mick over the edge with him. He bites Len's neck, enjoying the sounds he elicits. Len always gets this fire in him when they fuck like this, and it's possibly the most glorious thing Mick has ever seen.

Finally, he pulls out and collapses next to his husband, tossing the condom carelessly into the bin. Len lets out a long breath through his red lips.

Mick indulges himself with those lips for a few minutes, gauging how well-fucked Len is. It's a lazy kiss, tongues weaving in and out. Len slides his hand over the back of Mick's neck, lightly massaging the muscles.

Yeah. Pretty well-fucked, if Mick says so himself.

"Your little chicks told me you can sing, mother hen," he grumbles into Len's mouth.

Len pulls back to glare at him. Doesn't really work, considering his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. "Call me that again and I will find myself a widower."

Mick settles on top of him, this time putting his chin on Len's chest and running his hands up and down his sides.

"It's my turn," he says plainly. Len hums inquisitvely. "Sing me a song."

Len pauses. Cranes his neck to look at him. He's genuinely confused, Mick having jostled the stick up his ass. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

"None of the others did."

And Len knows he can't argue with that. Resting his head back on the pillow, he asks in a very put upon tone, "What do you want me to sing, Mick? Fucking Slip Knot?"

Mick smirks. "Nah, I was thinkin' Sinatra." Len blinks. "My father used to sing his stuff out on the fields. C'mon, sing me Sinatra, Lenny."

Len huffs. Still, his muscles contract under Mick's body, and suddenly--- _"Fly me to the moon...let me play among the stars..."_

Mick closes his eyes. He can almost smell his father's corn, see his sun-wrinkled face.

Absent-mindedly, Len's fingers run over Mick's head.  _"Let me see what spring is like, on-a Jupiter and Mars..."_

Yeah. This is good.

**Author's Note:**

> Song Used:  
> Once Upon a Dream (from Sleeping Beauty)  
> Ta fête (Stromae)  
> Thriller (Michael Jackson)  
> If I Had Eyes (Jack Johnson)  
> Fly Me to the Moon (Frank Sinatra)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
